#thewriterain

that's a lie, by the way. i have always been the kind of girl that keeps count, that may not say anything but tracks the passing seasons quietly, grateful for another month that passes.

when i was younger, it was an obsession. it's been a month, wow! i would say to my friends, to the person i was dating. as i got older, the obsession lessened -- can you believe it's been 6 months? -- but persisted.

maybe because when i was younger i was acutely aware that many relationships don't last long, and i wanted to make sure every moment counted. maybe when i was younger i knew subconsciously that these weren't going to be long relationships, because it never occurred to me that i would count the years instead of months. i think i always knew that the relationships were temporary and would eventually end.

when i made it to a year with one of my exes, it felt like such an achievement. a year, i'd thought, but it had taken too much effort and felt like it had taken ridiculously long to get there. i'd wondered, at the time, if it was supposed to feel like that.

you asked me once if i counted and i said no. a half-lie, because i do, but it doesn't consume me as much as when i was younger. i think it's worth noting, but doesn't need to be celebrated with large gestures. with you it seems silly to keep track of months when i look at you and see years, when i can picture lifetimes with you. (i think i would find you in every universe we live in, but that's a story for another day). with you, it felt like i blinked and half a year had passed us by; was it not just yesterday i stole your plushie and fell asleep on your shoulder? was it not recently that i was secretly trying to spend time with you in hopes that something might happen?

so please,

stay.

i still want to come home to you.

i want to wake up next to you,

and fall asleep in your arms, all comfy,

and squeeze your hand thrice.

i want to hug you and have you lift me up,

and tug on your sleeve and go, ‘nee, nee’.

and tell you dumb jokes.

i want to watch you smile at me all the time,

and talk about our days in terms of stabs.

and yes,

i want to keep living with you.

lately i've been wondering if i deserve this patience, this reverence from you. when you say you miss me, it makes me happy that you do, but there's an ache in my chest when i see the look on your face.

when i start to feel this way, i go outside or look out my window and stare at the sky. you know how we both like to look at pretty skies? whether day or night, sunny or not, there is a sort of peace in knowing that no matter how separated we are, we are under the same sky and stars.

and when i start to doubt, i replay your voice messages and listen to how gentle you sound. i let your words wash over me until i am reassured once more, and i start hoping again.

one day. one day we'll get to see each other and i will hold you and feel comfy again and watch that smile of yours spread across your face right in front of me. i will kiss you and squeeze your hand and say i missed you, my love.

kaitlyn: soft but ready to throw hands, sweet-smelling hair, multiple plushies, secretive, watching tv dramas, dresses casually but always looks good, hugs all their friends

nayli: dyed hair, open windows, impulse decisions, closets full of clothes, vodka shots, loud music, always busy with work or assignments, tries their best to show up for family dinners

amanda: combat boots and slip dresses, online shopping, scared of insects, multiple dms, tends to run a little late, likes making playlists, heart-shaped sunglasses

dida: dishevelled hair, easy to get along with, a total jock, overly generous, a little sad inside, flirts with anyone and everyone, insomniac, studies psychology, endless typos in everything